


Game of Wolves

by thegirlgrey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, F/M, direwolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlgrey/pseuds/thegirlgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is coming. </p>
<p>Stiles has always been prepared for it.</p>
<p>(Maybe not so much for war or falling in love. But she is a quick learner.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in a drafts folder since season one of Teen Wolf. It has been edited and added to since then. I figured why the hell not publish it?
> 
> All your favorite characters and favorite love-to-hate characters will make appearances, even some of the new characters. It loosely follows the books/tv series. I have taken many, many liberties.

The Lady hears the horses coming long before she sees them. The little girl chasing after a ribbon loose in the wind doesn’t. The Lady darts across the road and scoops the girl, now frozen in terror, up. The horses rear back frightened as the Lady skids back out of the way. The little girl lets out a scared scream into her shoulder as the riders settle their mounts. Stiles tucks the little girl’s head under her chin and glares at the lead rider. He looks young, only a few winters under his belt. She wants to scold him, but he reminds her too much of Scott with guilt written on every inch of his fine features.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, don’t let your horse lead you.”

He nods once, shakily as his hand clench on the reins. She turns toward the dark haired man approaching her on foot. She thinks she’s seen a portrait of him before, somewhere. But even if she can’t place his face, she can place his well-made clothes and the direwolf symbol on the pin of his cloak.

“Are you alright?”

She rolls her eyes and gestures at the girl clinging to her.

“I’m not the one you should be asking.”

The stoic Lord doesn’t look angered by her harsh reprimand. If anything, he looks amused. Thrown by his unusual reaction to her, Stiles sets the little girl on her feet again. She still clings to her hand, but she meets the Lord’s gaze as he crouches to her level.

“And you, little Lady, are you alright?”

She nods gently, face wanting to hide in Stiles' thigh. Stiles lifts her chin up to look her in the eyes.

“No more running out in the streets, Malia. I mean it.”

The little one nods solemnly. Stiles digs in her pockets and pulls out a handful of candy, colorfully wrapped, and presses it into her hand.

“Now, off you go before your mother worries.”

She hugs at Stiles' leg before darting off, paying the quiet Lord no mind. Stiles, however, does. She glares at him.

“Next time, try not to bolt down a busy road.”

She goes to turn, she has places to be, when his voice stops her.

“Since I’ve inconvenienced you, may I offer you a ride to wherever you need to go?”

Stile snorts before she turns back to him. So he is like all the other Lords she’s met after all. Thinking that wealth and pretty words could win him favors. She eyes his horses. They are his, no doubt. Well bred and well kept. Then she lets her eyes linger on the riders. They are around her age, tired, weary around the edges. Not used to riding on rough northern ground and in thinner air. Her eyes flick back to the Lord standing silently awaiting her appraisal.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep up, not with the atrocious way you ride.”

He gapes at her for a second before he schools his features. He approaches her again, a hand spread out gesturing to the horses.

“And you can ride better?”

She’s about to open her mouth when another voice, far more familiar, reaches her ears.

“I wouldn’t challenge her nephew. You’ll be down a horse and your pride.”

Stiles forces her shoulders to not rise to her ears, forces the frown from her face, as _he_ trots his horse over to them slowly. He knows how to ride in the North. He knows what it’s like to ride through a winter gale. He knows because he’s ridden through one with her father. He knows because he’s helped her to do it. He approaches from horseback grinning from ear to ear.

“Lady Stiles, my, how you’ve grown.”

The Lord next to her - Derek Hale, Peter’s nephew and the only remaining male heir to Hale House - stiffens.

“Lady?”

Stiles ignores him to glare up at Lord Peter Hale.

“Lord Peter, it’s been a while. Shame it couldn’t have been longer.”

He laughs, leans down to get a better look at her.

“I tried to push it back another, oh, five years, but my nephew has a very strict policy about honor and respect and keeping his promises. Very taxing. He’s drug me halfway across the Seven Kingdoms in the last year.”

She glances at Derek now with eyes alight with mischief.

“Couldn’t have started from King's Landing and worked your way up the continent? Maybe then he would have kicked it before he reached Beacon Hills.”

The other riders laugh. Stiles flashes them a smile. Derek doesn’t smile back like his riders. He looks gobsmacked.

“What are you doing in those clothes?”

It isn’t what she’s expecting and, from the sudden sour look on his face, it wasn’t the question he was going to ask. She thinks the tips of his ears are going pink, but it could be the long evening light playing tricks on her eyes. She gives him a blank stare.

“Not being naked?’

The thin squire behind him hides a laugh behind his hand, the blonde woman chuckles at her Lord’s completely shocked face. The other broad shouldered rider quirks an eyebrow as she lifts the brace of pheasant just enough off her shoulder to let Lord Peter, his nephew, and company see.

“In place of the pork my father loves to eat even though he knows how bad it is for him.”

Derek blinks at her. Stiles is beginning to worry that he isn’t as sharp minded as the rumors lead her to believe.

“You hunt?”

She nods at him slowly as if he won’t comprehend it if she does it any faster.

“Yes. Do you?”

His eyebrows furrow. It looks like he’s sucked on a lemon and is surprised it wasn’t sweet.

“Of course, I only meant-”

But he doesn’t get to finish speaking. Not with Scott skidding to a stop in front of them, breathing hard. He waves frantically toward Stiles before he grasps his knees to breathe. She smiles and motions toward Scott.

“Lords Hale, my brother Scott McCall-Stilinski.”

Scott quickly picks himself up and nods his head to them, but his eyes rest solely on her.

“Stiles, your father’s had the whole castle out looking for you.”

She snorts. That means he’s only sent out Scott and possibly Jackson. Her father, the Sheriff of the North, only sends out Danny and Melissa if she’s done something terribly stupid or life threatening. He’s only ever had to send out the castle guard twice. And the second time was completely not her fault! Scott’s the one that got stuck in the ravine and couldn’t climb out. It’s not her fault he was so heavy and she wound up getting stuck trying to pull him out.

“He’s threatened to send you off to the wall again.”

Stiles beams at the threat, proud. Derek blinks at her.

“Septa Morell’s threatened to make you learn new stitches.”

She feels herself pale considerably before she hastily hands over the string of peasants to her brother.

“Lords Hale, welcome to Beacon Hills. Now, if you excuse me.”

She bows quickly, doesn’t even make a show of trying to act calm, just turns tail and runs, shouting pardons and dodging people left and right. She’s surprisingly swift.

* * *

At their welcoming feast, she is clean and in a simple dress of grey and blue with her hair loose around her face. She bows properly, gracefully, and Derek only knows it’s the same girl because she grimaces when Peter kisses her hand. Dinner goes on smoothly until dessert when Peter tries to hand feed Stiles some of his tart. It dies a rather breathtaking death on the table next to his hand. Stiles smiles pleasantly at her father’s stern look, but doesn’t make any move to pull her knife out of the ancient mahogany. Peter wisely excuses himself to talk to some of the guard at the other end of the hall.

When Stiles looks away from Melissa, who is hiding her proud smile behind her napkin, she finds Derek at her elbow. She hadn’t heard him walk up to her. He looks amused rather than disgusted or discouraged. It does earn him back a few points from their first meeting.

“I apologize for earlier for making a fool of myself. It’s just that I’ve never met a Lady quite like you before, Stiles.”

Stiles beams at him and accepts the glass of wine he offers to her. That’s how you make an introduction. His uncle could learn a few things from his nephew.

“If you keep that in mind, we may be friends yet.”

Derek merely nods his head and retreats back to his seat. Stiles sips her wine. She’s never had many auspicious beginnings with her friends. (She did try to bite Jackson the first time they were introduced.)

This would be no different.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles may have been wrong about Lord Derek. Extremely wrong. He wasn’t arrogant or prideful. That she could have handled better. She had years of practice putting pompous Lords in their place. Instead, Derek was sharp minded, kind to those he cared for, and courtly. He treated his knights with the utmost respect. Stiles could only find pleasant surprise in that Erica was one of his knights, not a squire or handmaiden. She was second only to Boyd, his second in command. It only made Stiles admire Derek more, albeit very begrudgingly.

He wasn’t a bad man. He seemed to fit all the rumors and tales told of him. He was handsome and knowledgeable about seemingly everything. He knew exactly how to act, what to say, and what to do. While quiet and reserved, no one could call him anything other than attentive and pleasant. Melissa had practically swooned over him. Stiles might have too if he weren’t such a pain in her ass.

Lord Derek Hale was possibly the most infuriating person she’d ever met, besides his uncle. He seemed to know exactly what to say to make her set her teeth on edge. And he had a humor so dry and quick it rivaled hers. Every time she found herself in debate with Derek, his view opposed hers at nearly every turn. But as much as she dislikes him, Jackson _loathes_ him. And Stiles has always found it fun to wind Jackson up. She’s never met someone that gets under Jackson's skin so much just by being in the same room.

_One evening shortly after the Hale's arrival, they younger Lords and Lady found themselves all in the study. Stiles was reading a book while Scott, Derek, and Jackson had got into a discussion about swords and proper stances. As Stiles was practicing at being the Future Lady of Beacon Hills, she had feigned disinterest in the topic. What do ladies know of steel and battle? She clenched her jaw and turned the page sharply._

_Derek had seemed to make no notice of her quietness on the subject. He was too busy discussing his strictly enforced sword practices with the Northern Guard and his knights, how Erica had bested everyone she fought without fail as she had done so to Jackson early in the day as Lord Hale's knights practiced with her father's. Jackson had his royal ass handed to him by Erica. It was glorious enough for Stiles to try to embroider it into a pillow. It ended up being a complete mess, but Erica loved it anyway. Jackson, as expected, bristled at the comment and begun defending himself._

_“Her mail is lighter than mine.”_

_Scott rolled his eyes, used to Jackson defending his insecurities in the form of arrogance. Stiles understood this as well, but the spine of her book was bending in the light of his misogynistic behavior. Derek’s voice was even and calm when he spoke. It’s the first time he’d spoken since Jackson decided to take over the conversation._

_“Actually, hers is weighted more heavily to offer her more protection.”_

_Scott hid his smirk behind his hand too late. Jackson sneered. Derek, ignorant of Jackson's rising ire, continued looking contemplative._

_“It's the mail that probably slowed her down. She is usually much lighter on her feet. Maybe it's the thinner air she isn't used to. She did fight several other knights before you stepped into the ring...”_

_Scott bit his lip, hard, to stifle the laughter Stiles could see lining his face. Jackson looked sour. It was glorious. Derek still paid him no mind and continued on._

_“But then again, her wrist is still sprained. She managed to take Boyd in an arm wrestling match on our journey here, but not without sustaining some damage to her person.”_

_He let that settle in before he smiled genially, the perfect picture of a noble Lord._

_“If you wish to arrange another match to put you both on fair ground, I will be happy to refer your message.”_

_Jackson slammed his glass down and stormed out of the room. Scott, laughing so hard that he had to clutch at his stomach, followed his Lord brother out, trying to explain how it was just a joke meant in good fun. Derek watched them leave before sliding his eyes over to her._

_"I hope that we haven't disturbed you from your studies, My Lady."_

_He smiled widely at her before bowing and retiring for the evening. Stiles cracked up over her book the second the door closed. Danny, who had entered to see what all the commotion was, stared at her in concern. It only made her laugh harder._

Maybe, she thinks as the memory tugs a smile to her face, Derek isn’t that bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

On the fourth day of the Hale’s arrival, Stiles is tasked with showing their guests the expansive property of Beacon Hills. Since they’ve arrived, Stiles has had to play a proper noble Lady. Melissa has had her in dresses and gowns, her bow and arrows have been under her father’s watchful eye, and Jackson has started to pinch her when she even looks like she’s thinking of telling Peter off. She’s one politely hostile conservation with Lord Peter away from becoming a turncoat and abandoning her family to become a Wildling like her father always claims her to be. But if she has to suffer Peter’s constant arrogance and Derek’s quiet countenance, Scott will suffer with her. Unfortunately, her brother is too positive to be bored as they tour the castle and grounds he grew up in.

They are just coming back from a somber walk in the Godswood when Scott suddenly pulls his sword free. Stiles rushes to his side snagging Derek’s blade without thought. She falls short at her brother’s side when she realizes why he drew his sword. She drops her fighting stance to be able to smack the back of Scott’s head. He winces but points his sword away from the direwolf sitting in the middle of the path.

“It’s a direwolf!”

“Really, Scott?”

He shrugs and doesn’t take his eyes off the blue eyed beast. Her tongue, for it is a her, rolls out of her mouth lazily. She seems to be laughing at Scott. Stiles would be too. She understands Scott’s mistrust of the creature, but it isn’t exactly a myth that the Hales have kept direwolves as companions for as long as their house has stood. Stiles turns to offer Derek his blade. He looks just as amused as the direwolf.

“I believe that the wolf belongs to one of you, Lords Hale?”

Peter rolls his eyes. Derek merely smiles.

“She belongs to herself, but Camaro heeds me well enough.”

Stiles studies him carefully then turns to assess the direwolf still blocking their path.

“If she has managed to not take a chunk out of Lord Peter yet, then she is of sound enough mind to be welcome in Beacon Hills.”

She nods to the wolf and continues down the path that leads to the rear of the castle, uncaring of the large black direwolf trailing along behind her, Derek’s soft chuckles, or Peter and Scott’s indignant mumblings under their breath.

* * *

She’s in the smithy, pestering the master of arms, to put her order of new arrowheads before Jackson’s sword sharpening. She’s so close to wearing him down verbally that she barely realizes that there is someone behind her. Ser Erica is watching her as she badgers Master Finstock. The blacksmith’s apprentice, Greenburg, nearly sticks his hand in the hot coals at the knight's appearance.

“Lady Stiles, it seems your brothers were not being truthful about your persuasive abilities.”

She offers her a kind smile. She hasn’t had much time to spend with Lord Hale’s knights. She’s been trying to humor her father.

“Either they agree with my well developed and reasonable argument,” she glares at Finstock, “or I talk them into submission.”

Finstock snorts. Stiles slams her half finished arrows onto the empty table in front of her.

“You’ve known me since I came into this world. You know what I am capable of.”

Finstock shoves her arrows back toward her.

“Yes, my Lady, but I also known your brother and his temper. I much prefer dealing with your sweet tones than his sneering.”

Stiles rolls her eyes, but let’s the matter drop as Greenburg deftly sidesteps Master Finstock to grab the bundle instead of her brother’s swords.

“I’d rather be in your good graces, my Lady.”

Stiles beams at Greenburg. Finstock grumbles and turns to chastise him. Stiles watches as Greenburg brandishes a length of hot iron metal at him. The man just grins and steps closer. Stiles sighs and wonders how they haven’t killed each other or burned down the smithy yet. Erica laughs gently at her side as she looks over the pieces of freshly minted armor lying about.

“It seems that everyone in Beacon Hills holds your family in high regard, especially you.”

Stiles frowns.

“You’ve only been here for a short amount of time. I assure you that there are many who do not approve of how I behave.”

Erica offers her a smile.

“Trust me, my Lady. I understand best of all.”

Stiles nods, but can’t stop herself from wondering.

“How _did_ you become a Knight?”

Erica grins knowingly, as if she was waiting for Stiles to ask.

“I grew up with Derek. I was to be married off to some southern Lord to pay off my father’s gambling debt. Derek wouldn’t allow it. He paid off the debt himself, convinced his Uncle to give me a wardship for protection, and had me study under his sister before knighting me.”

She toys with one of the swords on the wall as she speaks.

“Derek may have trouble showing it, but he cares very deeply about those he loves.”

Her soft grin grows wicked and sharp as she turns to face Stiles.

“However, I do not have trouble showing my emotions particularly those of anger or betrayal. They tend to be expressed through violence and pain.”

Stiles can only blink. It doesn’t help that Greenburg chooses that exact moment to hand Erica back her freshly sharpened sword.

“You’re terrifying.”

Erica beams.

“Thank you.”

She flips her hair, throws a wink at the blacksmith, and leaves with her sword in hand. When Stiles turns around, Finstock is watching Erica walk away with tears in his eyes.

“I love her.”

Nobody would fault Stiles for throwing her arrows at his head. At least these would have been untipped this time.

* * *

She barges into the great hall, pushing both doors open with her hands. She’s covered in mud, almost head to toe, watered down in spots by rain. Jackson is already on his feet but then again so is Derek.

“Stiles!”

“My Lady!”

She ignores them both and stalks up the hall to the high table where her family and guests sit. She lifts the object in her hands, a bent horseshoe, and drops it, mud and all, into Scott’s bowl of stew. It splashes everywhere. Some lands on his tunic, most lands on his face. She grins down at him sharply, sharper than a sword.

“The next time I tell you to get your horse re-shoed don’t put it off for another month.”

He grins sheepishly at her.

“I kind of forgot?”

Derek watches as both she and Melissa smack him upside the head simultaneously. The Sheriff just heaves a long suffering sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. The rest of the room, while amused by the antics of their highborn family, continue on with their meals and conversation. Just another day in Beacon Hills.

“Lady Stiles, it seems that you’ve fallen from your hose.”

She turns on Peter and narrows her eyes at him. Everything about her stance screams predator. It reminds him of the direwolf at his feet while she’s on a hunt. It’s not something he sees in most highborn ladies. It’s… invigorating.

“How astute of you to notice, Lord Hale. It thrills me that your infamous eyesight is indeed not failing you in your old age.”

He has to clench his jaw tightly to keep from laughing at the barely veiled insult as Stiles turns on her heel and stalks out of the hall.

“Jackson.”

The blonde Lord is already moving before the Sheriff of the North calls on him. It’s probably to retrieve the horse and possibly to stop Stiles from loosing a flock of chickens in Peter’s chambers. Derek has been assured that it has happened before. (He can’t help but to admire her all the more for it.) For all his arrogance, Jackson cares deeply for the family that took him in and made him one of their own. He dotes on Stiles like a sister though he does give her absolute hell. 

“Danny, with me.”

Danny follows with a smooth bow. Melissa stands and begs the table’s pardon.

“I’ll get my things. She’s bound to be hurting.”

The Sheriff turns his eyes on the boy left sitting at the table. He ducks his head for a second before meeting the Lord’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, father. I should have seen to my horse when Stiles first told me.”

Lord Stilinski nods, accepting his son’s apology. Derek appreciates that the Lord treats his children as he treats the people of his lands; with fairness, humility, and kindness.

“You’ll forge the new shoe yourself and ferry it as well. Then you shall see to your chores and Stiles’ until she is fit to take them on again.”

The Sheriff is also very just in his actions and swift with his punishments. The young Lord nods his head solemnly and rises from the table.

“Yes, father.”

Derek stores that information away. He had noticed that all of the Sheriff’s children, adopted and blood, know several trades as well as familial duties. He’s seen Jackson practicing strategy and metalwork. He’s seen Danny fencing and cooking in the kitchens. Scott practices medicine with his Lady mother and studies politics with Maester Deaton. He has seen Stiles practice at… everything.

Lord Stilinski knows that life will not always treat his children kindly, as it has not treated him kindly, and he is preparing them for that lesson as best he knows how. Derek sees why his parents were such close friends. His mother had made him practice with swords and stitches. Lady Talia believed that if he knew how to make the cut then he should know how to mend it. She made him read and recite poetry until he knew them as well as politics. His father made him learn how to hunt with spears and charm anyone with his dance steps.

That’s why he excuses himself and makes his way to his chambers.

* * *

The swift knocking at her door makes her head ache. She barely refrains from throwing something at it. Instead, she raises her voice enough to be heard.

“I swear to the Gods, Scott. I’m fine, and you’re forgiven! Just leave me and my battered pride alone.”

“I’ll be sure to relay the message if I see him.”

The voice that spills from behind the door is decidedly not Scott’s. It’s quiet for a second before he speaks again.

“May I come in?”

She thinks about pulling up her nightdress from exposing her shoulder, already turning purple-blue, but thinks better of it because it hurts to move. Derek will just have to act like a Lord and deal with it.

“Yes, you may.”

She hates how formal she feels the need to be with him. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other how she treats him. He enters her room quietly, as always, and his eyes zero in on the starting of the bruising. She lets his eyes linger for another second before clearing her throat. He leans closer to her bed and holds out a book to her.

“Melissa said that you may be in bed for a few days, so I thought you’d like some company.”

She turns the book over in her hands. It’s the tales of the dragon riders, Rhygar and Rhea. It’s one of her favorite books, and from the well worn and cared for leather in her hands, it is his too. She turns it gently in her palms with a smile on her face. It must be more strained than she thought because he frowns.

“Is it not to your liking?”

She jerks her head up and winces. Derek looks a little guilty and the feeling turns her stomach over.

“No, no it is. It’s one of my favorites. But along with my battered pride, I seem to have a splitting headache.”

Derek’s face loses the guilt but is replaced with something else as he nods motioning toward the door.

“Then I’ll leave you to rest.”

She wants to say yes, to stew in her anger, but finds that it’s already gone, and she’s hurting and hates being cooped up in bed.

“If you don’t mind reading it to me instead?”

“No, not at all.”

He reads three of the shorter stories, saving his favorite of them for last. It’s of the Dragon Rider’s adventures in Volantis. Rhea had to pose as Rhygar’s master to buy him out of a pleasure house that he had gotten kidnapped by in a wounded and drugged state. It’s one of the more humorous stories, but it truly shows Rhea’s sharp mind and strategic ability. He’s always admired strong women. He blames his mother and sisters. Even now, the thought of his mother and Cora makes his heart ache. He dearly wishes that Laura would come back from her travels soon. Stiles must notice his faraway look because she speaks softly over the still crackling fire.

“I love how everyone praises Rhygar’s strength and his ability to inspire anyone to action, but Rhea was always the mastermind. She always was four moves ahead.”

Derek closes the book gently with an incline of his head.

“I do favor Rhea. She was the better Dragon Warrior.”

She smiles at him.

“I do believe that this is the first time we have ever really agreed on anything.”

He nods and smiles softly at the book in his hands. He stands and places it within her reach.

“Good night, my Lady.”

Stiles snorts. His smile grows wider.

“Good night, Derek.”

He bows his head and lets himself out of her chambers. If he orders Camaro to keep watch outside her door, then that is his business and his alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Once Stiles is given the all clear from Melissa, she immediately organizes an outing. Scott and Danny immediately agree. She asks Derek as well, more to get him away from Peter than anything else. His uncle has been grating on Derek's nerves recently if his furrowed eyebrows and pointed glares mean anything. At breakfast, Peter kept making digs at his nephew about guard dogs. Stiles was more than happy to offer Derek an out (and possibly prevent him from murdering his uncle and forcing her father to behead him.). Boyd, Isaac, and Erica agree to go too.

Scott vetoes Stiles idea of a hunting trip. She begrudgingly agrees to stick to riding instead because her shoulder is still bruised and stiff. Scott guides them to all of their favorite places in Beacon Hills. It unfortunately takes them nearly half a day’s ride away with a storm is fast approaching.  She stares up at the clouds, feels the wind whipping her hair about her face. They will not make it back to the castle before it hits.

“We need to find shelter and soon.”

Boyd nods, and Scott looks a little sheepish for being too excited to show off the land and not thinking about have far they’ve travelled. Stiles leans over in her saddle to ruffle his hair.

“Don’t worry Scotty, even I can’t predict the weather.”

Derek reins his horse up next to Stiles’, eyes darting to the darkening skies above.

“We can’t stay out in the open. I can smell ozone. There’ll be lightning.”

She nods and trots up closer to Boyd. He seems to be the one keeping track of their surroundings just as much as she has been.

“You think those caverns we passed a while back are large enough for us and our mounts?”

He gives her a small smile.

“We shall see.”

She turns her horse around and reaches out to Danny’s mount. They are both riding fresher horses, ones that have not handled storms well.

“Danny, you think you’ll be able to handle him if he gets spooked?”

The young knight brushes a hand against its white flank.

“I think we’ll be alright.”

She grins at him and motions her head to where Boyd is already directing his horse.

“We’ve got to ride fast to beat the storm. Keep eyes on us.”

She reins up and urges her horse into a sprint, Boyd just edging ahead of her. They make good time but the storm catches them. Danny’s horse rears once, but he calms him enough to keep riding. Boyd dismounts to clear the cavern they ride the horse in. Once he finds it secure enough, everyone dismounts. Everyone is wet, none more so than Stiles.

She had to wrap her cloak around her gelding’s eyes to keep him quiet. Scott finds branches near the mouth of the cave that are dry enough to light. Knowing that she’s better at it he is, he hands her his flint, but her fingers are trembling too much to strike a flame.

Isaac takes it from her as Derek pulls off his cloak and drapes it over her shoulder. She notices Boyd doing the same for Erica; her white shirt clear in places and sticking to her skin. Stiles is lucky for the heavy darkness of the cave. Her blush is hot on her cheeks because her shirt is probably worse. She manages to give Derek a smile.

“Thank you.”

He nods and goes to unleash his riding bag. He passes a flask of wine to Danny while Scott digs out fruit and jerky. The fire is starting to grow warm. Stiles wrings out her hair, wishes Melissa wouldn’t have stopped her from chopping it off last summer, and tries to rubs warmth back into her fingers.

“We should stay here for the night. We’ll never make it back after dark, not with the water this storm is bringing down.”

Stiles nods.

“The river’s bound to be flooded by now anyway.”

“Your father won’t be worried?

Stiles pulls the thick fur and wool around her tighter and gives Erica a smile.

“Oh, he’ll be worried, but he knows that Scott and I can take care of ourselves. Melissa will be there to remind him of it hourly. He’ll eventually send out a search party.”

She can read Derek’s face easily, now that the fire is warm and wide.

“You and your brother get into trouble often?”

She laughs, “No, but trouble tends to find us and plenty of it at that.”

Scott laughs and offers her the wine, she takes a mouthful and passes it to Derek on her right.

“You’re thinking of the hunters bet with the Orphans aren’t you.”

Stiles grins at him. Danny laughs and has to grab at Scott to keep upright. Erica smiles in confusion.

“The Orphans?”

Danny wheezes.

“Please, please tell the story.”

The night passes quickly with stories shared between them. Stiles tells them of the time she nearly fell from the old watchtower, Scott tells about the time he got bit by a direwolf and lived, Erica tells a lavish tale about a faraway prince falling in love with her at first sight and flashes them the delicate ruby necklace around her neck to prove it, Boyd tells of the time he nearly lost an eye to an angry crow. Derek tells stories of his sisters and how they died his hair midnight blue with stolen ink from their mother’s study. Isaac’s retelling of a May Day has them all in stitches.

“He sputtered like a fish and was flailing around until Laura told him he was in three feet of water. He stood up, and it barely came to his waist.”

Stiles smiles at him as he grumbles next to her.

“I didn’t know how to swim.”

She bumps her shoulder into his.

“I fell through the ice on the river once. I was under for barely half a minute before Jackson pulled me up. It’s terrifying being under, no sense of direction, no sense of gravity, no oxygen, just you and the current and the quiet.”

He nods, still watching her closely. She leans nearer to him, whispers.

“I am a very excellent swimmer now.”

He tilts his head, smiling back at her.

“So am I.”

She turns back to the conversation about Isaac being chased down by a particularly mad goose. She doesn’t realize that his eyes are still on her.

* * *

She isn’t surprised to find Derek sitting next to her at the mouth of the cave after the stories had given way to yawns. The lightning flashes so brightly in the sky and so often that it gives her plenty of light to work in along with the low glow of the fire. He watches her deft fingers twisting and twining feathers into fletchings for her arrows.

“You make your own arrows?”

She can just make out his eyebrows turned down in confusion. She flashes him a small grin.

“Finstock complains that he makes me more arrowheads than he does swords for my father’s men.”

Finstock is the blacksmith Derek has met and has avoided since. He’s an acquired taste and a strange man prone to giving his apprentices long-winded speeches of motivation and his swords pet names. Stiles likes the forge enough to ignore his ways and ramblings. Apparently, he makes her the best arrowheads.

“I like to experiment with the fletchings though. Regular feathers are fine for hunting, but I’ve made these-”

She hands him one from her quiver to examine. She points to the strangely shaped fletching.

“It’s wool, layered in wax to make it stiff. It flies farther and faster. It doesn’t break as easily as the feathers, and the wax keeps water from weighing it down. I’ve tried thin beaten metal, but it’s still to heavy. And for all Finstock moans about my arrowheads, he’s always making new ones for me to try.”

She hands him two others, one with barbs, more like serrated edges along the blade and another where they’re spike behind the flared edges of the arrowhead. Both arrows are meant to stay where they’ve landed.

“These would be good in battle.”

She nods, turning her shaft in her hand, admiring her mended arrow.

“I’ve seen Isaac eyeing my arrows. I’d be happy to make him some if he agrees to shoot with me one day. It’s not every day someone comes along that can challenge my skills with a bow.”

Derek nods just as lightning is splitting open the sky. She can see his thoughtful smile.

“I’ll tell him of your offer.”

They sit in silence as the storm rolls by overhead. After a while she stills her hands and peers at him in the dim light of the flashing sky.

“Aren’t you going to order me away and to bed?”

He shrugs a shoulder.

“I have begun to learn that life is much more pleasant when you do as you please.”

She grins at him.

“Quick learner.”

He smiles back at her.

“You will have to forgive me if I forget sometimes.”

Her smile widens. They fall back after a while to where the others have hold up for the night. Stiles flops half on top of Danny and rests her feet in Scott’s lap. Derek only quirks an eyebrow because Erica is doing much the same to his squires.

Camaro joins them sometime in the night, her muzzle slighting darker than usual. She’s fed well while they’ve settled into their makeshift shelter. She hugs the wall of the cave farthest from the horse so they don’t startle. She curls up close to Stiles, ears pointed toward the mouth of the cave. Derek runs a hand along her flank before he settles into sleep now that his watch is taken over.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning they are nearly half way to Beacon Hills when Jackson breaks into the clearing they are riding through. He urges his horse faster when he spots them. He stops, panting, as his horse circles around Stiles.

“Are you alright?”

She frowns.

“I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

His eyes darts over her then to Danny and Scott.

“Danny, Scott?”

They both nod, pulling in closer. Danny lays a hand on his arm.

“Jackson, what’s wrong?”

Derek can see how tightly Stiles’ fingers are gripping the reins so hard her knuckles have gone white.

“Deucalion is dead, and the King rides to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles looks to Scott, eyes wide and shaken, before she remembers where she is. She steels herself and readies her reigns. It is a fascinating thing to watch her go from Stiles to the Lady of Beacon Hills in a heartbeat.

“Let’s go.”

They ride hard and reach the castle far earlier than they should have. Derek walks into the hall just as his Uncle is walking out. Derek opens his mouth to speak to him, but he is called in by Lord and Lady Stilinski. He quickly bows to Stiles and Scott before entering the hall. Stiles moves to follow, but Peter catches her hand.

“You will learn why I cannot stay soon enough if you don’t already know.”

Stiles curiosity is peaked. She knows that Peter holds no love for the Argents. She didn’t expect it to be enough to cause him to turn tail and run. Peter just smiles as her brain works in overtime.

“Good bye, little one. Keep an eye on my nephew would you? He seems to be on his best behavior when you’re around.”

She snorts. He seems to do the very things that vex her the most. And he seems to be perfectly aware of it.

“I highly doubt that.”

He kisses her temple and oddly enough does the came to Scott who flails and rubs at the spot vigorously. Stiles laughs long and loud at Peter’s swiftly retreating back and has to grab at Isaac to keep upright. Her laughter is cut short as her father calls her in. Except that it is not her father that greets her in the great hall. It’s the Sheriff of the North. She steels her spine immediately. Derek is standing silent at the foot of the high table.

“Jackson has told you of the King’s arrival?”

She nods and opens her mouth to speak, but her father quickly cuts her off.

“He is riding here to ask me to become the new Hand of the King.”

Stiles feels herself pale. She had assumed as much when Jackson gave them the news. She understands why there is a fine line of tension in Melissa’s shoulders. Even Maester Deaton looks stressed (you have to look hard to see it in the way he holds his hands).

“Father.”

The Sheriff raises his hand to dismiss her attempt to talk him out of it.

“He will ask, and I will give my answer. For now, I need you to give me one of your own.”

At this Derek stiffens. Stiles braces herself.

“Lord Peter has made it clear that he wishes for our houses to be joined. You have been of the age to marry for some time now. His nephew will take your hand in marriage in the New Year.”

Stiles barely keeps her voice controlled. It will not do to yell at her father, not now. Not if she wishes to get out of this.

“How is that a question?”

“It isn’t.”

She looks to Derek, who had spoken, but his face gives nothing away. Stiles looks to her father. His face gives nothing away either. It only makes her more furious. Her father is marrying her off to someone who deigns to show any kind of emotion after a declaration of marriage, even forced upon them as it is. She takes a step forward eyes trained on her father.

“You promised me. You said I could choose my husband.”

Something in the Sheriff's resolves crumbles. He shakes his head sadly at his daughter.

“I know, but things have changed, Stiles. This is for the best. You have to believe me.”

Stiles’ back is ramrod straight, fingers held tightly in fists.

“You will forgive me if I don’t.”

She can’t bare to look at her father’s face. Instead, she looks toward her adopted mother. Melissa looks furious on her behalf, but even she cannot change the unmovable force that s the Warden of the North. Stiles bows and turns sharply on her heel. Derek follows her after a hasty bow. He barely has enough time to swing open the door. Stiles meets Scott’s concerned look with a fierce glare. He smartly lets her pass without trying to talk to her.

Derek already knows that it’s better if Stiles talks in her own time. That doesn’t mean he’s going to let her storm off on her own. She’d probably track Peter down and gut him. As if she can read his mind, she turns to him and jabs at the air with a pointed finger.

“I vehemently dislike your Uncle now. I might try and stab him again when I see him next.”

He watches as she stalks in tight circles in front of him. They have walked deep enough in the Godswood to not be disturbed. (He’d also seen Cam slip into the forest ahead of them. They won’t be overheard either. She’d make sure of it.) It’s the only reason why he risks her anger and speaks.

“Am I that terrible?”

Stiles stops to look at him fingers going to brush at her forehead.

“It’s not, you’re not, this isn’t about-"

She stops, frustrated, and tears at the errant trail of her dress that keeps getting caught up in the roots of a nearby tree. The new fashions might look pretty, but for someone as animated as Stiles, it’s troublesome. She throws her hands up in frustration and lets out a hearty groan. It’s amusing to witness. The honest words out of her mouth however are not.

“Any woman would be happy to have you. You come from a respected family, you have honor, you have, good gods, you have a body that puts statues to shame, a face that has maidens seas away swooning just by reputation alone.”

She shakes her head sternly, pressing on.

“But more than that you treat your servants and those of lower rank with kindness and humility. You raise neither your voice or hand in anger. You never speak without thought and only when it matters. You’re not terrible, though you are rough around the edges and need to learn to not be so emotionally constipated.”

He gapes at her for a second before schooling his features.

“I’m not what you want.”

She stills.

“You wanted it to be Danny.”

She deflates at that and runs a hands through her hair but doesn’t speak.

“If that’s truly what you wish, I will implore my uncle to withdraw his proposal. I will ask him to speak to your father. I won’t stand in the way of love-“

She stills him with a hand on his arm, warm even through the material of his shirt.

“No.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

“No, it is not Danny or no, do not speak to my uncle.”

She tightens her grip on him before pulling away and pacing in front of him.

“Danny, he doesn’t like - he prefers _men_.”

Derek blinks but nods. He had noticed the sun kissed teen more interested in his rain soaked form more than Erica’s or Stiles’. He opens his mouth to speak, but she waves a hand at him.

“I would have chosen him because he would have let me be myself. He wouldn’t have locked me away in some tower like an empty headed doll. My freedom is worth a faked marriage.”

Derek’s own anger at their predicament washes away in disbelief. He had thought that for as much as he’s grown to know her in these short few weeks at Beacon Hills that she had grown to know him in return. He takes her hand and forces her to meet his eyes.

“I wouldn’t force you to do anything against your will, Stiles. I may not have known you long, but I know you enough that it would only end bloody and badly for both of us. You would have my leave to do as you please shy of taking my army and gallivanting off to start a war. Whatever boundaries you set, I will honor them as long as you honor my own.”

She smiles, but it is a sad fleeting thing. He does not like this unsure Stiles. He wishes that Beacon Hills kept more with the old ways. The Preserve was rightfully Laura’s, as she was first born. The Hales were one of the oldest families in Westeros, only House Stark could boast of an equally long line. Laura held all of the powers and benefits as a Lord because House Hale had never cared for changing their beliefs. His Lady Mother, Talia Hale, ran the house and lands better than Peter ever could. His Uncle freely admits it.

No woman, especially Stiles, should need a man to claim her for her to be given even a miniscule amount of self control. Stiles was the rightful heir of Beacon Hills. She should be treated as such, not treated as some prize to be taken. Her family should not be threatened. Her hand should not be forced like this.

“I will not let harm come to you or yours, in any form. This I promise you.”

Her hand tightens on his.

“I know. But I was promised a choice, and to have it taken away…”

Derek shakes his head.

“You will always have a choice. If you do not wish to marry me, then I will refuse.”

He grins at her shocked face.

“It will give me yet another way to disappoint my uncle.”

She laughs, but that too is short lived.

“No, Derek. I don’t believe I have a choice.”

She steps away to pace again. He has noticed that she is always in motion, and her mind is quick and clever. The fox symbol of House Stilinski fits her well.

“You’ve gotten to know my father. Today, you truly met the Sheriff of the North. He knows more than what he let on. The King _is_ riding here to ask him to become the Hand. But the King knows he won’t accept it.”

Derek nods. He had expected as much.

“He’s coming to seek something else. If the rumors are true, King Argent is looking to strengthen his ties with the North.”

When she finally turns to face him, she looks angry again.

“The King wants to join our families together. Stilinski and Argent.”

It’s a smart move. The North has always been separate from the tethers and bindings of court. The Stilinski are beloved of the people of the North, far more than the Argents. With the kingdom without a Hand and the rumors of a True Queen rising in the West… King Argent wants to bind the country together through marriage…

“To his Uncle Gerard Argent or his nephew Matthew.”

Derek has only met Matthew Daehler once. They had not parted on good terms. (Derek broke his nose before Laura could break him for calling her a wildling whore.) Even thinking of Gerard Argent makes him taste bile in his mouth. The Argent and Hales has a very dark history. Stiles sighs.

“No, not much choice at all for me, but there is another way for the King to unite the North.”

Derek feels his blood run cold. Stiles looks like it pains her to even tell him this.

“If I refuse the proposal the King offers, my father will have to take up the position of Hand as to make amends for my disrespect. Then he will make a proposal to you. To marry his sister Kate.”

She rushes forward before he can truly process all that that entails. May the God’s bless her.

“I know that the Hales and Argents are not allies. I know that something happened between you and Kate.”

It takes all his years of training to keep from flinching. How could she possibly know that?

“There has been many rumors about her sudden departure from The Preserve the day of the fire that claimed most of your family’s lives…”

“I thought you weren’t one for idle gossip.”

She laughs. This one finally meets her deep amber eyes.

“I am one for information, any and all kinds. There is power in words.”

Now, he is the one that starts to pace. Either way, Stiles is married off against her will. Because her only option is to marry or her father will become the Hand of the King. She’d rather be carted off to some unknown lord than to have her father accept King Argent’s offer. Nobody survives long as Hand of the King.

Derek could refuse the King’s offer of a betrothal to Kate. But he is very aware of who controls the port cities that his land needs access to for trade. It wouldn’t hurt his family, but it would hurt his people. His hands are tied by politics and his own moral code. He doesn’t see any way out of this.

“As much as it pains me to say this, I believe my Uncle is actually the lesser of two evils.”

She laughs. It’s a dark bitter thing. 

“You see that I have no choice. I cannot refuse you knowing that I will send my father and you to such a fate.”

Derek nods. Stiles has no choice. But maybe, maybe the illusion of one may ease the unfairness of this entire situation. It won't ever make it right, but it's’ the only thing he can think of to do. He kneels in front of her and places a hand over his heart. She snorts, and it makes him smile.

“My Lady Stiles, I offer you my fealty, my friendship, and the protection of my House and name. I offer you not a marriage, but an equal partnership. ”

“Derek.”

He refuses to budge until she gives him an answer. She may be stubborn, but he can be as unmoving as the Wall. He has several people that can attest to that.

“Stiles, I am asking you. If you refuse, you will refuse me. Not your father or my uncle. This is your choice.”

Even if it is not much of a choice at all, he adds in his minds. She stalks toward him looking like she’s about to strike him. Instead, she pulls him up into a fierce hug. He holds her to him just as tightly. She whispers into his neck.

“Thank you.”

When she pulls back, she looks more calm, but still sad. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“I accept.”

He nods and schools his features.

“Shall we head back and tell your family?”

She looks back at the castle and sighs.

“What will you tell your Uncle?”

Derek grins as he offers her his arm.

“To expect bodily harm the next time I lay eyes on him.”

She laughs, and this time is sounds light and free. Camaro joins them shortly and Stiles, bold as ever, runs her fingers through the wolf’s fur as they walk.

“You know this could have been worse.”

He lifts an eyebrow when she pauses. For all that he had feared, as he had picked up her quirks and mannerism, she had memorized his. She knows he’s listening. She gives him a smirk.

“Kate could have gotten her claws in you.”

He stiffens but otherwise didn’t let his terror show. She grips his arm tighter anyway.

“You could have been carted off to Gerard as were his plans.”

She shivers but pulls away and punches his shoulder. It’s hard enough to sting. He finds it endearing and not angering.

“Is this your first act as my betrothed? To give me horrific nightmares.”

He shrugs and keeps pace with her as they walk back to the castle to speak to her father. She glares at him from the corner of her eyes. He smiles.

“It’s a part of my master plan. To have you running to me in the middle of the night.”

She tries but can’t hold back her laughter. He smiles to himself. Theirs might never be a true marriage, but a true friendship, that he could live with.

That he could live for.

* * *

She asks to speak to her father alone. Derek can hear muffled voices through the heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall before Scott and Melissa exit through them. Derek catches a glimpse of Stiles' hands moving in front of her while the Sheriff rolls his eyes. Melissa takes Derek’s arm as they walk to her private study for tea.

“They’ve already made up. They’ll spend the next few hours arguing about how they should talk to each other and listen to each other before making any rash decisions. She’ll try to throw him off with arguments about his health. He’ll remind her that he is the Sheriff of the North for good reason. Eventually, they will bond over their annoyance with your Uncle and play a game of chess.”

She pauses as she pours tea into a delicate mug.

“No offense to your family, dear.”

Derek shrugs because Peter is a dick. He will admit to it freely. Peter would admit to it freely. Derek just silently accepts the tea Melissa serves him. She waits to speak until he drinks.

“If you ever hurt Stiles, in any way, keep in mind that I know a great many ways to harm a person just as I do to heal them.”

Derek nearly chokes on his tea. Melissa offers him a serene smile as she sips at her own cup of tea. Scott beams and claps him on the back.

“Welcome to the family.”

He nods. Welcome indeed.


End file.
